SCP-9000 — Woman in Grey OFFSET 4

Link to article: SCP-9000 — Woman in Grey OFFSET 4.

(none)

border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px;

border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px;

border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px;

(none)

[[include theme:black-highlighter-theme]]
[[include :scp-wiki:theme:scp-offices-theme]]
[[div style="border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

You are reading **Document 5 of 5**, dated **c. 1897**.

[[/div]]

//The following is a fragment of a journal discovered in 2019, as part of RAISA and the Department of Investigative Research's re-evaluation of SCP-9799. It consists of pages ripped out of a larger volume. It was located in an uncatalogued section of the local archives in Site-331, located in southern Lincolnshire; it is not clear why it was not found by earlier researchers. Its exact date of composition is unknown, but context clues suggest it was written by Margaret Soames shortly before her death in 1897.//
 
> it ripped, and I was so upset. Herbert overreacted, of course, as he always does; sees my anger as most improper. There are only three left now, three of my friends, and they //have// to be finished in time. He doesn't know, of course; doesn't know about the coughing, or the blood. I have been very careful to keep that from him; it would only worry him unnecessarily.
> 
> Herbert would not, could not, understand, why I must be here with them, in this cold attic room. They don't visit me, any more. I think they only stayed so someone would be here to paint them, but I failed so often that I can't blame them for being quite disheartened. So many of them, all clinging by the spout, wanting someone to see their faces first before they fell, unweaving into black, into nothing.
> 
> Their dress, wools and fabrics and ratty old things, is so beautiful. It is what first struck me about them, why I insisted Herbert build here. All the greys, all the pills coming off the clothes, all the winding and unwinding. All the soft gowns and shifts, the mud spattering in and around them, as they walked, with such dignity! Such shining dignity!
> 
> So I must finish them. I will line all Helby up in a row, and justify myself that way. All of them - the peasants, the priests, the wives, wending back in blue and reddened time. The dances, the green green grass. The dark loam that spits and sparks as you dig into it. The dying sun on ancient evenings. The church calling them to prayer, over so many years. So many ways to fend off the black.
> 
> I close my eyes and I see that black. They all fell into it, except the ones inside my head, where I can fix them. They all fell, the village, the country surrounding it, the church, every whisper of them. But the land didn't fall, and the land is what lets them see.
> 
> Nicholas thinks it's the house. He saw them too, once, and it scared him; he said we made a house that's filled with ghosts. But I know better. I saw them all, before that; I saw the spit and gristle and mustard-smiles, stretching back and back and back on themselves. I will paint them all better; or if not all, then three, two, one, at least one, please God! Please God!
> 
> I can do it to one, one whose face flickered brighter than the others. A pretty girl - sparkling eyes, sunrise features. She was so beautiful, the sunlight in her hair...
> 
> She wore a dress of grey, a woollen dress, outside the church. So I've painted it so delicately, the lines so frail. Her face, though, that's the thing. I think I've got it, now. I think I'll have it done, and then she will not die. She cannot die. They'll have to look at her, one last scrap of her, and then she won't die.
> 
> Sometimes I think I will die. Sometimes I think I feel the dark around me, closing in on me. There's so much of me, and so little will be left behind. Like everyone who ever lived. But that's why I'm here, in the place where the dead walk, in the place where people don't always die. So we can be remembered. Over and over again, in the faces of the dead, in their places and holes, their hideaways. They can't forget us. They can't ever forget us, because they know that if they do, they'll be forgotten themselves.
> 
> Let them die in amber, for all I care. Shooting and shoving and burning in flame to keep the past alive.
> 
> There's so much of it and so much is dead. It is so cold here, so lonely; the boards creak, the wind whistles all around. But I will still live, where all others fail. I will survive, I will be remembered, all I do and my bounden duty will be

@@ @@

[[div style="border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]
[[=]]
**[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-9799/offset/3 Previous document]**
[[/=]]
[[/div]]

[[div style="border:solid 1px #999999; background:#f2f2c2; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px;"]]

This file was last amended **2,162** days ago. It has been tagged with the [INCOMPLETE] designation and will be automatically moved to the archives in **30** days, releasing the file designation.

Thank you for using the **RAISA Archives**.
[[/div]]

SCP-9000 — Woman in Grey OFFSET 4

Module Styles

Inline Styles

Includes

CSS Classes

Page Source